


Here With Me

by jeweldancer



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Breakfast, Comfort, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 05:50:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9221855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeweldancer/pseuds/jeweldancer
Summary: Victor reached out, very slowly, and brushed Yuri’s cheek with the back of his fingers. Yuri now loved to be touched, but it had taken a long while for him to be comfortable with even a simple caress.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For those who follow me because of my writing for another fandom, rest assured I am still working on those stories. December was a rough time for me, and discovering Yuri!!! on Ice was the only bright spot. So have this little bit of fluff, and I look forward to writing for both fandoms in the New Year!

Victor was dreaming of his childhood home. He had spent relatively little time there, especially after Yakov had taken him on as a student, but his dreams always seemed to take him back. For years, Victor had dreamed of searching through an empty house, furniture missing, family photos propped up against the wall as if abandoned. He was looking for someone, and as the dream progressed, he would move faster and faster through the rooms, never catching up to his mystery person. Occasionally he would hear footsteps, or a warm laugh from down the hall.

This time, Victor had been in his own bedroom, skating posters lining the walls, and had smelled food cooking. He shuffled barefoot to the kitchen, knowing he would find something wonderful there. 

He was pulled from sleep suddenly, and it took a moment to regain his bearings. Victor turned his head sleepily to find two brown eyes staring at him from the dark. 

“Yuri,” he whispered, questioning, and was answered by deep, shaky breaths from the other pillow. No words.

Victor reached out, very slowly, and brushed Yuri’s cheek with the back of his fingers. Yuri now loved to be touched, but it had taken a long while for him to be comfortable with even a simple caress. Victor knew that in the early days of their friendship, he had often crossed the line into Yuri’s personal space, and he regretted his tactlessness. 

So in times like this, Victor always proceeded with care, making sure that Yuri was comfortable. He rested his hand on Yuri very lightly, then pulled away an inch or two. “All right, Yuri?” He was answered by a frantic nod. 

He shifted his hand to cup Yuri’s jaw, then opened his arms to him. Yuri scooted into them, trembling, and allowed himself to be cradled to Victor’s chest. Victor rocked him and stroked his soft hair. 

“I’m here, love. I’m here. You’re safe.” Victor pressed a kiss to Yuri’s forehead. “You are safe, and I love you.” Yuri let out a long, shuddering sigh, and tried to relax into Victor’s arms. “There you go. I’m going to rub your back, okay? Don’t worry.”

Yuri always grew very still when Victor petted his hair or stroked his back, as if he were concentrating on the sensation fully, perhaps to remember it for a future time when he would be alone. He still worried about that, Victor knew. Not as much as he once had, but Yuri still feared that he would not be enough for Victor, and he would one day be alone again. 

It was ridiculous. Victor had known for a long time, perhaps since the night of the banquet in Sochi, that Yuri Katsuki was the only one for him. His shining eyes, his brave heart, his charming earnestness. Damn, Victor was the one who should worry. If Yuri ever left him, Victor would not be able to bear the emptiness left behind. He had a taste of it once--when Yuri said, “Let’s end this,” and Victor had wanted to die from the sudden sharp pain of it. 

He wanted to clutch Yuri to him, to beg him for assurances that he would stay forever. But Victor knew that was a promise no lover could truthfully make, no matter how faithful.

So he concentrated on the shivering man in his arms. “If you need to talk about anything, Yuri, I will listen.” Sometimes Yuri needed to rattle on about his nervousness for the next competition, his frustrations about part of a program that just wasn’t clicking for him. 

“No,” he whispered back. “There’s no reason tonight. I just woke up and...I was afraid.”

“That’s okay.” Victor began his ministrations again. Soft kisses, but only along the hairline and temples, so that Yuri would not confuse concern with passion. After another few minutes of having his back rubbed, and four more “I love you”s from Victor, Yuri’s eyes fluttered shut and he slept.

It took Victor a little longer. He was in no rush to sleep, and wanted to enjoy the feeling of Yuri nestled in his arms for as long as possible. He hummed part of a Russian folk song, something he’d learned as a small child, until sleep overtook him. 

Victor woke with the sun the next morning, still slightly fatigued. Missing sleep, even an hour’s worth, hurt much more now than it used to. He squinted at the clock and found that they still had time to fix a real breakfast before practice. He reached over to Yuri’s side of the bed and found it abandoned. 

He slid out of bed, not taking the time for socks even though the floor was like ice. There were good smells coming from the kitchen. He rounded the corner just as Yuri was removing the pans from the stove. Maccachin danced excitedly at his feet. 

Victor crept up behind him, circling Yuri with his arms and nuzzling his hair. He’d started letting it grow a little longer once they moved to St. Petersburg. “Good morning, my love.”

“Victor! Everything is almost ready. I hope it’s good. Yurio’s grandfather gave me the recipe, and I’ve been waiting for a special occasion to prepare it for you.” Yuri blushed, and ducked his head. “It’s...it’s a thank you.”

Victor looked at the massive platter of pancakes, a lump forming in his throat. His impulse had always been to say that he didn’t need thanks, that anything he did for Yuri, he did out of love. But he had come to realize that to Yuri, brushing aside a thank you was hurtful, and would lessen the value of the gesture. 

“It is most ardently appreciated.” Victor drew Yuri around and looked into his eyes. “That is the best breakfast I have ever seen.”

Yuri blushed even more. “Oh, no. But I hope that it tastes good.”

“But now I must thank you as well.”

“What for? You’re the one who took care of me.”

“For being here with me.” Victor ran his fingers under Yuri’s chin. “Now, I must try these pancakes before they get cold.”

“Oh! Yes. I have prepared toppings for them…” Yuri proudly gestured toward a tray with bottles and dishes, meticulously arranged. 

“We’ll try them all.”

Yuri giggled. “We will be late for practice.”

“It’s worth it. How often does one have a breakfast like this?” How often did one have a morning like this, or a feeling like this? Victor intended to appreciate every minute. He switched off his phone, and left it sitting on the kitchen counter before joining Yuri at their table.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know anything about Russian cuisine, but a little research told me that a special occasion breakfast might include a type of pancake. I hope this is accurate.


End file.
